


90 Days without Sunshine

by dulce_melos



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:36:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7103695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dulce_melos/pseuds/dulce_melos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One moment he's teasing her and the next, he's gone. For three months, she waits and wonders if he's going to make it back. What happened while Tony was in Afghanistan?</p>
            </blockquote>





	90 Days without Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is the fanfic that started it all (cross-posting from fanfiction net, originally put up a few years back), so please be gentle :) Takes place during the time Tony is missing.

**Day 1:**

“Pepper.” The voice on the phone was unexpected. She looked out the window, over the ocean - it was late afternoon, and she was getting ready to go home. The caller, however, was in Afghanistan, where it was nearly four in the morning.

“Mr. Rhodes!” Her voice showed her surprise, both at the hour for him, and his informal use of her name. Quick to recover, though, she went on, “Hello! It must be really late there. How did the demonstration go? Did Mr. Stark depart on schedule? Please tell me he did. He has a meeting tomorrow afternoon with the engineers at Cal Tech.”

“Pepper, it’s Tony … I - I shouldn’t even be calling you yet. They told me not to, but you need to know,” Rhodey’s voice was hesitant and heavy with emotion.

Pepper felt herself go cold as a sudden dread cleared business from her mind. _No._

Something was horribly wrong. She heard him try again. “Tony is…” There was a hollow feeling in her chest and everything else faded away as she waited for him to finish. Finally, he said, “Pepper. There was an attack on the convoy. The soldiers who were protecting him are dead. Tony is missing.”

And at that moment, her world fell apart.

**Days 2 & 3:**

It took two days for Pepper to return to her office at Mr. Stark’s home.

Shortly after Rhodey’s call, before she could collect herself, the phone rang. It was Obadiah Stane. She knew before she answered it that he knew. They spoke about Mr. Stark’s abduction. She tried to remain calm and professional, but there were cracks in her armor, and Obadiah could see them like a neon sign. After a few moments, apparently making a decision, he interrupted her and said abruptly, “Miss Potts, I need you to take tomorrow off.” Obadiah Stane’s voice was firm, brooking no argument.

She stopped in mid-sentence. _What?_ She thought. _I need to be in the office._ He continued, “I have to attend an emergency board meeting in New York; my plane leaves in an hour. We’ve got to figure out how we’re going to handle this, and I will probably be in New York through tomorrow night.” When she didn’t respond, his voice softened somewhat as he said, “Try to stay calm. We’ll get this figured out. Tomorrow, when I talk to my secretary, I don’t want to hear that you’ve come in to work.”

It turned out to be a good thing Mr. Stane realized how affected she was by this. She was in no condition to work the next day. She spent most of her time at home either combing the networks for any kind of news (there was nothing yet, of course) or crying.

Her work with Anthony Stark was not _just_ a job. He was not _just_ her boss. She had been working with that insufferably brilliant and confusing man for 8 to 12 hours a day, for far too long to call it or him ‘just’ anything. The thought of him being hurt or _gone_ forever was too big for her to handle.

“Hello Mr. Stane.” It was evening on the day after she’d heard about Mr. Stark, and she’d regained her composure somewhat.

“Are you doing okay? Do you need another day?” Mr. Stane’s voice sounded tired. Pepper could tell he was concerned about her, but she could also hear stress there. She knew she wasn’t helping matters by having a breakdown. She had to get back to work.

“I’ll be alright sir. What do you need me to do?”

“I’d like to meet with you to go over the board meeting results, first thing in the morning.”

She spent the first half of the next day meeting with Mr. Stane. It was the decision of the board that until they had more information, the company was keeping the abduction quiet. She would have to be very circumspect in how she responded to people over the next few days.

Her meeting with Mr. Stane had been very reassuring. “Miss Potts, I’m just waiting for the ransom request. They wouldn’t dare hurt him. Not if they want a damn penny. Tony has friends in high places. Once they have an idea of where he is, he’s as good as home. Don’t you worry your little head about it.” Stane’s voice was so assured, so confident, she couldn’t doubt. And if it came to paying a ransom, she knew the company had the resources for pretty much any demand. She just had to keep things going until her boss returned.

Even so, when she arrived to see Mr. Stark’s home so dark, so still, all her fears came rushing back. She hesitantly punched in her security code and went in. The lights came on as she stepped into the foyer. It was nearly lunchtime.

She walked in to her office and found herself just sitting there, staring at the computer screen. “Miss Potts? Is everything all right?”

“Um. Jarvis. Well, no, not really. But you know that. I’m just having trouble getting started. I need a moment to get myself together.”

“Yes, Miss Potts, I understand.” The gentle voice fell silent.

Coffee. Yes. She needed something to focus, she had so much to do today and it was going to be really hard to keep from falling apart. As she headed towards the kitchen she passed Mr. Stark’s bedroom door, closed as always, but for some reason seeing it now, really hit her hard.

He hadn’t slept here last night. Not because he was partying, not because he was working, but because he was gone.

He wasn’t going to be coming out of that room any minute, sniffing for the coffee she made each morning. She’d been so calm a moment ago and now, the realization that he was really gone was like an arrow in her chest. Faced with that closed door, the memory of the first time she’d seen him walk through it came flooding back.

_She had only been working for Mr. Anthony Stark for a couple of weeks, and he bewildered her. She’d seen already the company he kept when he ‘played’ (yes, she’d been warned about that, so hadn’t been surprised) but she had not expected to come in several mornings and find him still in the workroom where she’d left him the day before, completely focused on some project. For all his reputation as a hardcore playboy, he worked even harder. And that was saying something._

_Another surprise (actually discovered her first day) was that the office she worked out of opened off the living room. Consequently, it was just a few doors away from his bedroom. It sure made things interesting._

_‘Miss Potts, how do you manage to be so impeccably dressed at such an ungodly hour every single day?’ Tony inquired, stretching as he shuffled into the living room, hair a mess and in a bathrobe, apparently roused by the smell of the coffee she’d started. Raising an eyebrow, she made a mental note: coffee = alarm clock._

_‘Mr. Stark, it’s 11:30, and most normal people dress this way for work. By 8:00. In the morning.’ Pepper responded. They’d had similar conversations before._

_‘Well, okay, I’ll give you that. But, seriously, Miss Potts. I think you’re overdressed.’ He looked her over. ‘Yes, definitely. I could help you with that.’_

_‘Really.’ She said with a small smile. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I have work to do.’_

_‘Are you sure? I’m just trying to help, here. You look tired. You could nap in my room. That would be alright with me.’_

_‘Thank you, Mr. Stark, I’m fine.’ Pepper rolled her eyes at him and he smirked._

_Sighing, Pepper continued back to her office, coffee in hand. She heard a chuckle as the door to his room closed._

Remembering that little exchange (from years ago now), Pepper smiled and shook her head. Her eyes started to burn. Angry with herself, she brushed away the tears. _Keep it together, Pepper._

**Day 4:**

Yinsen cursed in frustration. The man in front of him was getting worse. He’d managed to stabilize him for two days after the long and frightening surgery.

These conditions were impossible – no proper tools, only crude anesthesia and terrorists for nurses. His patient had nearly died, and to be honest he didn’t really know how the man had pulled through. He must have a will of iron. Which would be surprising considering what Yinsen knew of this man.

That victory was short-lived, however, because although his patient’s heart was out of immediate danger, his temperature was spiking. Yinsen couldn’t be sure, but from what he could tell, it was at least 104° and climbing.

“Water. Now! And rags,” he ordered in Dari, the only language they all seemed to know - the urgency in his voice completely overshadowing the fact he’d just given orders to his captors. The two roughly dressed men hovering over him grabbed their weapons and scrambled to comply. He uncovered the unconscious man, letting the cool air of the cave reach his skin, desperately trying to bring his core temperature down. It wasn’t working very well.

Tony Stark moaned weakly and shifted on the dirty mattress. His dark hair was matted with sweat, blood and the dirt from being dragged after his capture. They had not been gentle getting him here, even injured as he was. “Hold on, Stark. I’m doing the best I can, but you’ve got to help me, damn it.” Yinsen said grimly, glancing up as the anxious looking men returned with the supplies he’d asked for.

**Day 10:**

“Happy, this is ridiculous.” Pepper fumed at Harold “Happy” Hogan, the large man beside her, trying to move him by the sheer force of her will. It wasn’t working. _Well, I guess that’s why he’s a bodyguard. He’s immoveable._

“Miss Potts, you know that now the news of his abduction is out, you won’t have any peace from the media. The board of directors wants you out of your apartment. They still don’t know who took Mr. Stark. They are concerned there is a chance you might be in danger, they want you to have more protection.”

“I know. I … I just can’t. And I know I go there every day anyway, but Happy, I just can’t stay there.” There was a touch of panic in her voice.

At that, he relented and tried to reassure her. “It will be _better_ to have you at the house. Jarvis is there, he’s the best security system in the world, and I’ll be able to protect you better.” _Better than I could protect Mr. Stark._ He didn’t say it, but she heard it anyway. She felt the pain there, but didn’t know what to say – Tony hadn’t taken any of his personal security with him, it hadn’t been allowed. Besides, he’d been with _soldiers_ , for God’s sake.

She didn’t tell Hogan the reason she didn’t want to stay at the house. It was hard enough to be there during work hours. At least then, she was busy. She could keep her mind on work, on the expense sheets, managing the property, keeping up with required correspondence. During the day, she could imagine he was just away on business.

She couldn’t tell the bodyguard she practically fled at the end of each day because she knew Mr. Stark _wouldn’t_ be coming home, she wouldn’t hear him head down to his workshop to tinker. She wouldn’t hear the rumble of his music (too loud), or his voice on the intercom gently chiding her for still being there, working. _‘Miss Potts, turn that computer off. Come join me for a drink. Let me help you relax.’ She could remember hearing the stress he put on ‘relax’ and how she could almost see the self-satisfied grin on his face. Because he knew she’d say no, and because she knew he knew it._ At the time, she’d been amused. Now, remembering just hurt.

She didn’t tell him it was scary to be there in the evening, in that echoing emptiness, because she knew that at night she’d think the worst. And it terrified her to think that this man, this infuriating man, who was so central to her life, might not come back.

In the end she didn’t say why she couldn’t stay at the house, so she brought her things into the guest room. She told herself it wouldn’t be for long, because of course Mr. Stark would be home soon. Of course.

**Day 14:**

Yinsen watched his fellow captive. It was very late. He’d nodded off long ago, only to wake now, at the darkest hour of the night, to find Tony Stark still focused on his task. He felt badly for his previous opinion of this man working with such concentration in the dim light from the fire.

When he’d seen the drunken display at the conference years ago, he had been frustrated and angry to see rare genius being wasted, drowning in self-indulgence. Shortly afterwards, Yinsen had been embroiled in his country’s escalating conflict, and he’d lost touch with America and its people with their childlike naiveté.

So it had been a shock two weeks ago to recognize the young man, now grown, bloody and badly wounded as he was dragged into the cave. “My God! You are insane. This man cannot be saved. The shrapnel will puncture his heart. I cannot.”

“You will, or die. Painfully.” The voice that ordered it was cultured, articulate. The eyes of the leader told Yinsen this was very, very important. It was then that Yinsen made the connection between the weapons of Stark Industries and the brilliant young man whose speech he had attended so long ago. He must have taken over his father’s company. This was the man the insurgents had captured, and they knew it.

And he was dying.

The physician’s blood ran cold at the possibilities of _that_ mind being used to create weapons here. For these men. Alive, in this place, Tony Stark could be used against his country. Many would die.

 _It would be so simple to not save this man._ He probably couldn’t save him - the injuries were severe. _They can’t use him if he’s dead_ a horrible little voice said. But in the end, beyond the threats of his captors, beyond his natural instinct that screamed not to let _anyone_ die, it was his curiosity to know what kind of man Stark had grown into that drove Yinsen to save him. How could he, a humble physician, let such a mind leave this world if he had the power to save it?

Since Stark had regained consciousness, Yinsen realized his memory of the young man was but a simple cardboard cutout. The real Mr. Stark was a revelation.

“Those are my weapons. Why do they have my weapons!?” There was genuine surprise there – and anger.

“These are your customers. These men. These killers.” Yinsen had replied, and watched anger turn to pain. It was obvious the young man had been surprised, but how could he not know?

Yes. The last few days had been rough. Mr. Stark had discovered evil men had the weapons he designed to protect the American military. The insurgents wanted him to build a super weapon. All this came on top of the knowledge that his injury was likely to kill him before he could finish what they wanted anyway.

Yinsen was horrified to see Tony Stark was on the verge of shattering. “Do you want this to be your legacy? Is this how you want to go out?” Words desperately spoken to shake the man from his downward spiral.

“It doesn’t matter, they’re going to kill us both. Nothing I do will change that, and I’ll probably be dead in a week anyway.” Yinsen had cringed at the despair in those dark eyes, knowing that this man the terrorists referred to as the “Merchant of Death” was facing his own, and seeing what it would cost the people left behind - the innocents.

“Then this is a very important week for you, isn’t it?” He’d responded, knowing somehow that was the right thing to say.

And that was all it took. That one question had brought Stark back. He watched as the man had focused with an intensity that was almost palpable, and created a generator of incredible power from the simple prompt of his crude car-battery powered concept. It was astounding, and not a little bit frightening. And that was just the beginning. Tonight, he had shown Yinsen the schematics for the “missile”.

Tony Stark was a revelation, indeed.

**Day 28:**

Pepper was furious. She shut the television off and slammed the remote down, resisting the urge to break something. _It’s a good thing this isn’t your house,_ she thought, or she most likely would have thrown the nearest object, just for the satisfaction of hearing the crash.

The day had gone better than most, with a call from Rhodey that said they’d found some tracks in the foothills near the area Mr. Stark had been taken. He sounded so excited - they thought there was a good chance it would lead them to the people responsible. It wouldn’t be long now.

She’d been so happy when she hung up, she felt like celebrating. She had sat down to watch TV over her favorite take-out Chinese. Flipping channels, she heard Mr. Stark’s name mentioned and stopped.

Some tramp with obviously bottle-blonde hair and blue eyes was being interviewed (she looked vaguely familiar), and she was saying that Mr. Stark _deserved_ what he got, and … wasn’t it _ironic_ that he was taken out by the very people his weapons were designed to _kill_? The program then gave a brief update with a comment from the host that ‘at this point Tony Stark was as good as gone’, and that wasn’t altogether bad! Then pictures flashed across the screen of her boss when he was at his worst – Pepper couldn’t tell when they’d been taken, but he’d obviously been really intoxicated.

“Jarvis, who was that woman?!”

There was a moment as Jarvis investigated. “I’m sorry, Miss Potts, the woman was not identified.”

“Aaah!” Pepper didn’t know who she was angrier at – the tramp with the big mouth and obviously no fashion sense, or Tony for (most likely) sleeping with the vindictive slut.

“Miss Potts?”

Taking a deep breath, Pepper fought to get her anger under control. “Jarvis, please open a window.”

_Click._

“Miss Potts?” Jarvis inquired again. She took another breath and blew it out.

“Yes, Jarvis.” She was calmer.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“No, Jarvis. But I’ll be okay. Please note the program and the station that ran that interview. I’ll have the legal department contact them tomorrow.”

“All right Miss Potts.”

“Thank you.” Why? Why was she reacting this way? Before he’d gone missing, this type of thing happened all the time, and Tony seemed to take an almost evil delight in it.

But now … Pepper walked to the open window. She was in the living room, where she did a lot of her work. It was just more comfortable in here. The night sky was clear and full of stars. She closed her eyes against the cool ocean breeze - feeling it pull the unruly curls away from her face. Her anger was gone now, and she felt a little nauseous. Chinese had definitely not been a good idea.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked around the living room. Her eyes fell on the piano in the corner; it hurt. So she looked away. She’d learned since coming to stay at the house she could avoid thinking too much about Mr. Stark if she just didn’t look around. _Stay on the path._ Guest room, kitchen, living room, office. Yep. That was pretty much it. Of course she went out for business appointments and such. But when she was home, well. Stay away from Mr. Stark’s room (of course!) and don’t dare look in the workroom downstairs. She shook her head.

The hardest thing she found, was avoiding the piano. It was right there, so a lot of times she found her eyes skimming over it as she went about her business. In all the years she’d worked with him, she’d only seen him play once; at a company party downtown he’d been _so_ drunk. But he was good. He had played an achingly sweet melody that silenced the chatter in the room – right before launching into a rather lewd take on a much cherished Christmas song. The room had broken up with laughter, and even now she couldn’t help smiling at the memory. But that first song … she could imagine him sitting there, when it was dark like this. Playing. She could imagine him looking down at his hands as they moved over the keys, or closing his eyes, maybe, as he did on that night at the party. Feeling the music.

She sighed and faced the ocean again, her mind flashing back to the irritating blonde. She couldn’t help wondering why he seemed to relish those one-night stands, when so often those women came back to haunt him, in one way or another.

She remembered the smile on his face the day he disappeared, when she’d thanked him for his ‘thoughtful’ birthday present. “Damn it, Tony. I wish you had better taste in women.”

**Day 35:**

The glow from the Mark I illuminated Tony’s face. He lay on the mattress, exhausted but satisfied with the progress on the project. Yinsen was on the other side of the cave, snoring softly.

The days were going by in a blur of intense, focused work, interspersed with interruptions for inspections of the “missile”. It had become a drill – the slide of the metal plate in the door, a shout in Dari (or some other language), Yinsen’s look. Hiding anything incriminating as the door scraped open. Angry, suspicious eyes raking dumbly over the electronics, then pushing and shouted threats. As if threats in a language he didn’t understand were really what was motivating him.

No, more than not wanting to die, it was cold fury that fueled him. He’d be damned if he’d die here and let these men run around wreaking havoc on civilians and American soldiers with HIS weapons. He’d be damned if Stark Industries continued making weapons that were being used against innocents.

And Yinsen. The man would die here unless his plan worked. Tony had to get him out, and back to his family. _And what about you? Who are you going back to? Obadiah? Jarvis?_ Tony pushed the thought away. He couldn’t think about that; it cost him too much. He remembered the words Yinsen had said, “The man who has everything, but nothing.” Those words had cut more deeply than the older man could have imagined.

In darker moments when he was too tired to stop himself, he saw the fear under his anger. Doubts. What if he couldn’t, what if he died here, with nothing and no one to really miss him? His legacy being only that of the _Merchant of Death_? He had nightmarish visions of women and children cursing his name

No, that was not how he wanted to go out.

So Tony threw everything he had into the work, but the physical and emotional stress was taking its toll. After more than a month, his physical reserves were gone. He knew that. He was working on fumes and will power. All that time over the years spent in the gym had been both a blessing and a curse. Because of it, he had hope he could pull this off. But he could tell he was losing muscle mass rapidly. It took a lot of high quality protein to maintain. Of course, the food here was crap and there was little of it. He didn’t know how much weight he’d lost already, but it was beginning to worry him. Even with the Mark I to power the suit, it was going to take a good amount of strength to move in that monster.

“I guess no one’s told them that people work better on a full stomach.” He muttered as he rolled over, closing his eyes. The only benefit he could see here: the little tummy pooch he’d been trying forever to get rid of was gone.

**Day 41:**

It was a really bad day. There was still no word. No ransom request. No group to claim credit. Mr. Stane told Pepper that the military was running out of leads.

**Day 52:**

Yinsen shook his head. He took off his glasses and cleaned them. When he threw in his lot with this man, he hadn’t known what he was getting into. He never would have imagined that anyone could be so driven, so focused, or so … intense.

He watched as Tony made another connection, referred to the schematics and began working on the next component.

Yinsen was no stranger to hard work. As a physician, he was used to long hours. He was accustomed to exhaustion, especially after years of dealing with marathon surgeries to fix the injuries of war and the urgency that came with it. So although Tony’s pace was very difficult, he was able to manage.

The physician had also often made snap decisions that required a quick, sharp intellect. He’d come in to this confident in himself. But now. Seeing a mind like Tony’s work was truly scary. And humbling.

“Yinsen, you gonna help me out, here? I need another pair of hands.” Tony looked up, absently brushing the hair out of his eyes and sighed. “Are you tired? You look tired. Man, I’m tired, too.”

Giving the young man a wry half-smile, Yinsen nodded and walked over. “What do you need me to do? In English, please.”

Raising an eyebrow, Tony responded with a small laugh, “What are you trying to say?”

**Day 63:**

“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Stane, but I need to continue what I’m doing until Mr. Stark returns.” Miss Potts looked down as she replied and tried to hide the tremor in her voice.

Quietly, Obadiah responded, “Miss Potts. Virginia. Tony isn’t coming back.” He sighed. “I really think it would be better if you came and worked here at the factory. I could use an assistant with your experience.”

Wincing slightly at his use of her first name, Pepper looked up. “Thank you, Mr. Stane, but I was told by the main office that the board will allow me to continue in this position, maintaining Mr. Stark’s affairs until he returns, or …” She halted there, unable to finish her sentence. She looked up to see him frowning at her, his face unreadable.

“All right, Miss Potts. Let me know if you change your mind.” Obadiah Stane watched her as she nodded and left, quietly closing the door behind her.

“Happy, please take me to the house.” Pepper’s voice was brisk as she climbed into the limo, hiding her upset at what had just happened.

“Yes, miss.”

Obadiah Stane had just offered her a position in his office. She was angry, and hurt. Mr. Stane was giving up. If he was giving up, so was the board. They thought Tony was dead. Tony wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. How could they just give up on him?

When she’d gotten the message to meet with Mr. Stane this morning, hope had bloomed. But that was quickly crushed as soon as she stepped in the room and saw the seriousness of his expression. Pepper looked out the window, blinking back tears.

Mr. Stark had been missing for two months. It had been two months since he’d reproached her for turning down his music. Since she had watched him wipe the oil from his hands from working on his latest car project. Since he’d flirted with her, as always, and since she’d gracefully deflected it, as always, knowing he was teasing.

Two months since she had told him he was late and rushed him out the door on her birthday, happy to have the afternoon off.

And then he hadn’t come back.

“Miss Potts. Miss. We’re here.” Hogan had opened the door for her, and was waiting. She blinked quickly and nodded.

“Thank you.” As he held his hand out to help her from the limo, he noted how bright her eyes were. “Miss Potts. He’ll be back. You hang in there.”

Pepper looked up at him and saw the concern for her shadowed on his face. She realized that under the concern was guilt. Guilt Hogan still felt, because even though he hadn’t been permitted to go with Tony, he still hadn’t been there for his boss when he’d really needed him, protecting him. The bodyguard had been working with Tony for nearly as long as she had. “I know Happy. You hang in there too. And thank you.” Pepper stepped away then, and headed into the house. _Tony,_ she thought, _please, where are you?_

_We’re running out of time._

**Day 75:**

He had to sleep. Tony lay down on the awful mattress - it wasn’t very comfortable, but it might have been feather-filled for how good it felt. He couldn’t remember not feeling tired. Not hurting. The task he’d set himself was impossible. There was too much to do, even with Yinsen’s help. He knew it was only a matter of time before his captors figured out he wasn’t making the Jericho they’d asked for.

 _There will be hell to pay when that happens._ He pushed the thought from his mind. No. He’d finish before then.

He wondered idly what was happening at his house. How long had he been gone? He didn’t know. Time passed in the cave and he only knew the days by how often they brought food in.

He was so tired. So wrung out. Closing his eyes, he let himself think about home. Pepper with the morning paper at the kitchen counter, munching a scone, the smell of coffee being made behind her.

_“Good morning, Miss Potts.” She started, looked up and smiled._

_“Oh, good morning, Mr. Stark. I didn’t hear you. I thought you were still sleeping.” She laughed a little. He watched her look him over. He knew what she saw: his hair was messy; he was wearing torn, faded jeans and a t-shirt (he was pretty sure she wanted him to get rid of that shirt – it was old - but it was his work shirt. It was comfortable.) Frowning slightly, she said, “You have a meeting this morning, Mr. Stark. I don’t think you’re dressed for it?”_

_His lips quirked. “I don’t have to leave for at least an hour. Come with me, Miss Potts. I need your help.”_

_“Actually, Mr. Stark, you need to leave in exactly an hour.” He looked at her as if to say ‘no problem, that’s plenty of time.’ She rolled her eyes._

_Sighing, she set her paper down and followed him into the workroom. It was a mess. He looked back as she followed him in and saw her realize he’d been working all night again. She gave him that little frown of hers. “Now, mom. I was working on Jarvis. And I’ve hit a snag. I need an extra pair of hands.” He said it briskly, but he was laughing inside. He loved needling her. She was so cute when she was exasperated._

_Another big sigh. “What do you need me to do, Mr. Stark?”_

_“Here. I need you to reach in here and hold this while I make the connections.” He showed her the panel and which wires he needed to solder. Reaching across her, he grabbed the soldering iron. “Stay still now, I don’t want to burn you.” He felt her watching him as he did the soldering._

_“Mr. Stark?” She said, hesitantly. He felt her breath, warm against the side of his face._

_“Yes?” He answered, not looking up, trying to concentrate on his work._

_Softly, she said, “You really should sleep more.” He heard the concern there._

_He finished the connection, put the soldering iron down and, pulling her hands from the wires, closed the panel. Turning slightly, he smiled into those suddenly alarmed blue eyes. He knew she hadn’t realized how close they were. The heat of her radiated through his shirt and he felt a delicious little thrill. She was wearing some light floral scent he didn’t recognize and was perfectly coiffed as always, with just a few little wisps of hair falling around her face. Unconsciously, he lowered his voice and murmured, “Miss Potts. I would love to see you with your hair down sometime.” He felt her hands tremble a little and heard her breath catch._

_He watched as she closed her eyes and leaned in a little bit … his heart sped up. He felt her breath against the hollow of his neck. Then … he saw her get a hold on herself. For a second, so quickly he almost missed it, he felt a sad little pang. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, a half-smile on her face, eyebrows raised. And waited._

_He shook himself. Took a breath and pulled away. “I’d better get ready.”_

_“Yes, Mr. Stark. You’re going to be late.” Her voice, behind him as she left the workshop, the perfect assistant once again._

Tony opened his eyes. Well. That wasn’t the smartest thing to do. He blinked a few times. He hadn’t meant to think about _that_. Where had that come from? He rubbed a hand over his face.

“You really should sleep.” The voice came from the other side of the cave, where Yinsen was still working. The words were all too familiar.

 _Not helping, Yinsen._ “No, I can’t. I have work to do.” Taking a deep breath, he got up, ignoring the protest of his body.

**Day 82:**

Pepper stared at the email. Even though she hadn’t really spoken with the man since she’d turned down his offer of employment at the factory, a small voice inside her bitterly commented on the cold and impersonal way Mr. Stane had chosen to notify her.

_‘Miss Potts,_

_I know this will come as a shock, but we have received notice that the military’s search for Tony Stark will be discontinued in forty-eight hours. All leads received to date have been exhausted._

_The board of directors will be meeting two weeks from today to discuss the future of your position with Stark Industries. Please call my secretary to schedule a meeting during the week following the board meeting so we can meet to go over Tony’s affairs._

_Sincerely,_  
_Obadiah Stane.’_

What that email was actually saying was, ‘Tony isn’t coming back, and we’re not going out to look for him anymore.’ Regardless of the military’s decisions on this, Stark Industries had the resources to look for him privately.

“Bastard.” She said it softly, but might as well have screamed it.

“Indeed, Miss Potts.” Jarvis replied.

Pepper couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t sit in her office and stare at that screen. She got up from her desk and went into the living room, looking for a distraction.

The door to Tony’s room was open; the housekeeper must have left it open to air the room. Before she could stop herself, she went in.

The room was immaculate. Everything was in its place and not a speck of dust (of course not, the housekeeper had just been through). The sky was cloudy and gray out the window that spanned the entire room. Still, the view across the ocean was breathtaking.

She walked across the ivory carpet, more plush than the carpet in the rest of the house, glancing over the closed closet doors. The room felt so empty. Her hand brushed over the bedspread as she moved to the large cherry wood bureau.

A few pictures were sitting there: Tony with his parents at their beach house when he was a boy. Tony with Rhodey, both of them with military caps on, askew, laughing. And. There was a picture of her, with Tony at a company function from last year. He was wearing a suit, had his arm around her shoulders and he was smiling that wicked cat-got-the-canary grin of his. Why did he have this picture here?

She ran her fingers down the picture frame, and something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. She reached out and picked the small bottle up. His cologne - his favorite. She opened the bottle. Breathed it in. This is what she smelled on him every morning as she read him his schedule, and every evening when she closed up the office and said goodnight. It was a scent that she associated with all the things in her life that she thought she could depend on. Tony.

But she didn’t have that anymore, because he was gone. She would never see him again. Pepper put the cologne back on the bureau, sat on the freshly cleaned bedspread and cried.

**Day 86:**

The vibration from the hammer striking metal traveled up his arm, numbing it. But he kept going. It was late, he knew. His internal clock told him it must be in the wee hours of the morning. He’d been working virtually non-stop for days now. Yinsen was behind him, working also, on some of the finer electronics. The older man did not have the strength required to do the metalwork. Tony felt badly that he was keeping the man up. The physician wasn’t young anymore and Tony had been working them both at a brutal pace.

He slammed the hammer down again, shaping the metal beneath it. He knew time was short, but also, the pounding of the hammer on iron kept thoughts at bay. Not thoughts of his company, weapons, terrorists, or the creature comforts he was so accustomed to, but thoughts of a face with clear blue eyes, a sweet smile and ginger hair. Thoughts that were better not examined too closely. Instead, he focused on the sounds and feeling of the metal as he worked it.

So he continued. Sweat dripped off of him, drenching his shirt, running into his eyes. The dull ache where his injury was still healing had long since grown to pain. The cave was warm, had been warm since he’d started the metalwork on the project. He _had_ welcomed it, the damn place was so cold otherwise, but now his skin was flushed from the heat and all he wanted to do was lay down and surrender to sleep. He paused for a moment. The metal needed to be heated again - it wasn’t giving in to the hammer.

“You need to rest. You will exhaust yourself before we are done and then where will we be?” The quiet voice said from behind him.

“I can’t. We’re running out of time. I can feel it.” Tony’s voice was harsher then he meant. He was already exhausted, drained. But there was no time, and when he stopped, fear rushed in.

“Tony. I know the demons you are running from, and I know what we are trying to complete. I know how little time we have, but you must rest or you will not be able to _finish._ ” Yinsen’s eyes were sharp as he took in the younger man.

Tony felt uncomfortable under those eyes. How did this man know him so well? He gave in, only because if he did he could get back to work quicker. “Alright, Yinsen. I’ll lie down for an hour, but no more. I can’t tell you how I know it, but we’re almost out of time.”

Yinsen nodded, frowning. It would have to do. He knew Tony Stark well enough by now that if he said he’d sleep for an hour, well, that was as far as he’d go. He shook his head, frustrated. The man was killing himself. Why had he put in such effort to save Stark, if he was going to end up working himself to death? _Arrogant, frustrating child,_ an angry little voice said. He watched as Tony cleared the work surface and walked over to his mattress, lying down with a sigh. Watched as the younger man turned towards the wall, muting the glow from the Mark I in his chest.

 _No._ He had to admit that voice was wrong. _Arrogant? No. A child? No. Brilliant, driven, passionate. And stubborn. A man working beyond common sense, beyond the limits of his body, simply because in his mind there was no other way._ In the middle of all this tension, cutting through the fatigue, Yinsen wondered if he was this frustrating for the people who knew him well.

Shaking his head, the physician went back to his work, forcing his blood-shot eyes to focus. He’d just finish this off before he tried to get some sleep. Wryly, Yinsen noted the younger man’s commitment wasn’t helping _his_ old bones much, either.

**Day 87:**

Tony’s body ached all over. He knew Yinsen was right, but he couldn’t afford the time. For the last few days the sense of urgency had risen in his mind until he wanted to scream. He did rest, for half-an-hour. Muscles screaming, he dragged himself off the mattress to the table, and picked up on the finer work where Yinsen had left off. No hammering until later, he didn’t want to wake the poor guy. He let Yinsen sleep until breakfast.

Close. They were very close. By his estimates, they needed two more days and the armor would be as ready as it could be. Tony laughed bitterly to himself. Two more days and he just might be dead. He didn’t know how much longer he could sustain the effort he was putting out.

They talked little now, stopping only for short instructions, curtly given. Tony knew that Yinsen understood. He was impressed at the stamina of the older man.

Things were going well, until that evening, when shortly after testing the actuators for the armor’s leg, their time ran out.

The leader of the insurgents came in, looking murderous. This was the first time Tony had seen him. He spoke to Tony at first. He was intelligent, articulate, calculating and evil. There was a hunger in this man that was frightening, a hunger that allowed him to do whatever he needed to get what he wanted.

After a few minutes, he turned his attention to Yinsen, and there was a terrifying moment when Tony realized where the conversation was going; it was blatantly clear even in another language, as he watched Yinsen’s head being pushed down on the anvil, a hot coal brought too close to his face.

“I need him. He’s a good assistant.” Heart hammering, Tony looked into the man’s face, trying to convince him he couldn’t use anyone else (in truth, no one else but the leader spoke English). That was when Tony knew this killer didn’t care about hurting Yinsen. He wasn’t trying to motivate Yinsen to do anything. Tony saw in his eyes that he knew these two captives were now friends.

If Tony didn’t do what he wanted, both men would pay, but Yinsen would pay first - with Tony helpless to do anything about it. “You have one more day to produce my missile.”

After they left, Tony was thoughtful for a while. The leader had wanted to motivate him. Well, he’d succeeded. He held a hand out to Yinsen, helped him up. “Are you alright?”

“Yes… I – I thank you.” Yinsen’s voice shook as he sat down on the small metal chair by the table.

“I’m sorry, Yinsen. I wish I could go faster.”

The man laughed as he cleaned his glasses. “Faster, man? No one else could have made it this far as quickly. Do not worry, my friend. I am alright.”

“Okay. Playtime’s over. Let’s finish this.” Tony picked up the tongs and put the metal in the fire to heat again. Taking a deep breath, Yinsen nodded.

**Day 88:**

The suit worked.

Yinsen, the man who saved his life, the man who showed him what he had to do, was dead. He’d let Tony think he was building the suit to save them both, but the whole time he had never intended to leave that cave. That hurt.

Thanks to Yinsen, he was alive. He’d escaped. And he’d blown up the weapon cache. “Pretty impressive explosion,” he had to admit, “Nope, not bad.”

And now he was probably going to die in this sandpit. No food, no water. Though there was no real way to prevent it, he couldn’t help muttering, “smooth, Tony.” It hadn’t really helped crash landing in the suit; they’d done their best making the damn thing, but there were plenty of rough edges. It tore him up pretty good, and Tony was fairly certain his arm was broken.

Wrapping the remains of his jacket around his head to save him from the worst of the sand, Tony kept going in the direction he thought was north. It was pretty frightening - stretching out as far as he could see: sand. And more sand. He stumbled a little as he crested the next sand dune. _Yep, more sand._

The last few days had been the worst; it had taken all he had to get out of there in that suit. How would it feel to just lie down? To have the ache bleed away into oblivion. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He told himself he couldn’t, that there was still work to do. _But it’s more than that._ Before he could examine the thought more closely, he heard something over the constant sound of wind and sand. _What was that?_

 _Thuup, thuup, thuup, thuup, thuup._ He looked up just in time to see the helicopter crest the hill and land in front of him.

“How was the fun-vee?”

**Day 89:**

Pepper smoothed the covers over the guest bed and smiled softly. If she didn’t say anything, Tony would never know she’d been here. But she _was_ going to tell him … because she could. He was coming home.

She was meeting him at the Air Force base in the morning. She was almost afraid to believe it - afraid it was a trick. But she knew it wasn’t. And the board meeting about her ‘future’ wasn’t going to happen, nor was the meeting with Mr. Stane. She knew it was mean, but she had never taken more satisfaction from a conversation then in the one she’d had with Mr. Stane yesterday, when he’d called (yes, he called) to let her know the meetings had been cancelled.

She laughed to herself. “Tony, I should have known. Hundreds of men searching for months couldn’t get you out, so you made it out yourself.” She couldn’t stop smiling.

“The limo has arrived to return you to your apartment, miss.”

Pepper picked up her bag and stepped toward the door. “Thank you Jarvis.”

Rhodey had told her that Tony had been injured, but was going to be okay. He warned her that he’d had been through a lot, and he might be different. She’d need to give him time and help him adjust. That was okay. She was quite accustomed to working around Mr. Stark’s unique personality.

She just needed to know he was going to be around.

**Day 90:**

“Your eyes are red. A few tears for your long lost boss?” Tony’s dark eyes took in his assistant’s clear blue eyes, sweet smile, and ginger hair.

“Tears of joy. I hate job hunting.” Pepper smiled. She breathed in. He’d gotten some of his favorite cologne from somewhere.


End file.
